


The Feeling of Home

by Captain_Kiri_Storm



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftermath of Manure, Aftermath of Violence, Bathing/Washing, Bucky Barnes Feels, Families of Choice, Family Fluff, For a Friend, Found Family, Gentleness, HYDRA Murder Polycule, Hair Washing, M/M, POV Jack Rollins, Post-Mission, Pre-HYDRA Reveal, Protective Bucky Barnes, Their Prize Adjacent, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22062808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Kiri_Storm/pseuds/Captain_Kiri_Storm
Summary: After a long mission, all Jack wants to do is sleep for the next three days. He's had a harsh few weeks - staking out beside a farm and falling into the manure lagoon does that to you. However, he lives with Brock Rumlow, a recovering Bucky Barnes, and Sasha, so his chances of getting three day's of sleep are pretty slim.Some things are better than sleep, though. Things like home and a family.
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Original Male Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	The Feeling of Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dogbite_propaganda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogbite_propaganda/gifts).



Jack Rollins felt like death warmed over.

His hair stuck straight up and a fine grained silt that smelt like death clung to his tactical suit. The same silt clogged his rifle, rendering it completely inoperable until he managed to clean it out. Brock, who had grown up on a farm, had known not to go near the manure lagoon, but he'd neglected to, oh, _inform his husband_. That solid looking surface wasn't all that solid. Jack fell in up to his shoulders and then he slipped. He'd managed to get out without spooking the cows, but he'd been forced to sit in the back of the helicarrier. Even Rogers had made a pointed comment about the smell and no one wanted to get downwind. Brock made him put a towel down in that damn truck of his.

At least he wasn't tossed in the back with the rest of his gear. Jack wasn't looking forwards to cleaning it. The pants and boots were never going to be the same. It might make more sense to just burn them and ask for new ones. He knew the quartermaster. She might not have been HYDRA, but she was a decent person and tried to keep three of everything. Jack could live with slightly too big boots, if he still got to sit with the others. He might have been a pain in the ass, but he was a social pain in the ass. The lone assassin thing was more Bucky's business, but they couldn't bring him out of Rogers was going to be there. Barnes might have been theirs, same as Sasha, but Jack was painfully aware that could be snatched at any second.

Brock? Not so much. Barnes? Apparently, he didn't understand the word "no" anymore and he wanted everything the twenty first century had to offer. That meant smartphones and social media, both things Jack was adamant that Barnes not get. That could blow covers - both theirs and HYDRAs. Knowing Jack's luck, Barnes would go viral and Jack would have to head Rogers off at the pass. Again.

Jack fumbled with the door, cursing under his breath as his filthy hands slipped over the gleaming brass. Sasha had been busy. He must have driven Barnes nuts, what with getting him to trim the lawn and actually weed the front garden. It looked like _people_ lived here now. Not a bunch of wild animals who were only masquerading as humans. They had scrubbed the front porch and someone had been busy with the credit card, going by the pile of packages on the front porch. Jack grabbed his phone, cringing as he saw all the mud smeared across the screen. Thank the little gods that it still worked. He rubbed his fingers against his mud stiffened pants and keyed in the password.

They didn't have to worry about porch pirates after Barnes tracked the last set down and left them hanging off a parking garage by their underwear.

Brock held the towel as delicately as he could. "Are you done yet?"

"You done mooning the neighbors?" Jack snapped. The guy in question was a half deaf Desert Shield vet who didn't care _what_ they did, just as long as Sasha didn't check the mail naked again.

"Not my fault you got mud on my ass," Brock muttered. He snapped the filthy towel against Jack's ass, raising a cloud of stinking filth. Jack, who was used to the smell, just let it roll off of him. Brock, ever the dramatic bastard, made gagging noises and acted like he was going to pass out. Jack just grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him inside.

"Not everyone all at one," Jack muttered. He glanced down the much cleaner hallway, noting an absence of Sasha and Barnes. He could hear them watching TV and he figured that he wanted to leave them too it. That would lead to awkward questions and the last thing he wanted was for Brock to retell his story. Again. For at least the fifth time, if not the sixth. Or seventh. Whatever it was, it had gone on too fucking much and Jack wanted to shove Brock in his own private cesspit. Who thought it was a good idea to call SHIELD in to deal with death cults? This one had gotten farther than most, though Jack was pretty sure a demon dog wasn't _quite_ the firepower they needed.

Brock stepped inside and locked the door. "Hey! Everyone! We're _home_!"

Jack gave him a dark look as he stripped off his filthy clothing. He left that on the tile and hoped the damn rescue mutt wouldn't come running. "Did you have to call them? Really, Brock? Why doncha call the dog while you're at it?"

"Good idea." Brock knelt down. "Rambo! We're home!"

Jack groaned as the resident sixty pound pit bull came bounding through the house. Rambo barked loudly and started licking Brock's face, his tail whipping back and forth. Brock buried his hands in the big dog's brindle pelt, rubbing him all over and letting Rambo jump all over him. Jack reached down and tried to pet Rambo, only for the dog to whine and cringe back. Jack rolled his eyes. Yeah, he got it, he stunk. He started for the upstairs, only to turn around. Barnes stared at him, his mouth wide open. At least his eyes were clear - this was a good day. They didn't have to worry about any PTSD freakouts. Barnes, though, had an an expression on his face like that time he'd gotten skunked.

"You," Barnes softly said, "stink."

"Thank you," Jack muttered. "I didn't notice that I got dumped in a manure pit until you pointed it out, dumb ass."

Barnes took a step back like he was wounded. "Excuse me," he muttered. He mounted the stairs again and grabbed Jack's shoulder. "Let's get you in the bath. You smell like a rotten slaughterhouse. Or like that place in... well... I don't remember. But you stink and it doesn't look like you feel really good right now." He murmured something in a language that Jack didn't know. Barnes touched him again, steering him into the bathroom. "Sasha and I binged on _Hogan's Heroes_. You woulda liked it."

Jack tried to push away from him, but it wasn't exactly that Barnes was willing to let him do. Barnes steered him into the shower and touched his face with gentle hands. Jack hadn't shaved in several days, but Barnes didn't seem to care. Instead, he got Jack under the hot spray and started massaging his herbal shampoo with gentle fingers. Jack tried not to moan. Damn, but Barnes was good at that. He heard Brock come in and a few seconds later, a second pair of hands joined the first. They were talking to him, washing his hair and body over and over again, but Jack didn't hear any of it. All he saw was the pure, white lather sliding off his body. He felt the soft warmth of the water wash over his screaming muscles, comforting him.

"We got you," Brock whispered. He kissed Jack under the spray, his own stubble scraping roughly over Jack's. He seemed to purr gently. His fingers were strong, pushing Jack towards the white tile. Jack gasped - the temperature contrast making his skin pebble up. He was too tired to actually interested, but the kissing was nice. Brock seemed to really enjoy what he was doing. Jack enjoyed it, too. He enjoyed Barnes, gently touching him and kissing him where it felt good. Somehow, Barnes knew. Jack didn't know how, but he just enjoyed it. Maybe they were all clean, but Jack just needed the touching and the pleasure. A part of him needed to feel like he was wanted again.

Brock bundled him out of the shower and wrapped him up in a fluffy towel. It was one of those microplush towels, the kind that Brock loved because he claimed they were so good on his skin. Jack could understand the appeal, now that he was enjoying being wrapped up in the thing. Jack even let Brock push him on the bed and call for Sasha. Even the damn dog jumped up on the bed. Jack didn't mind it this time. He just let them all wrap him up and kiss the bits of exposed skin. It just felt _good_.

Jack might not have been a romantic, but he loved this. He loved having this feeling of family and _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Beau!!


End file.
